Those of us who are engaged in the fall edition of pageantry have been “at it” for a little over a month thus far. Each summer, as the start date for Band Camp creeps closer and closer, my level of apprehension is in direct proportion to the timeline: the closer we get the more apprehensive I get. It is a mix of anticipation, excitement, and primal terror!

This year was no different than any other except for a few personal reasons:

coming off a much needed sabbatical

fully recovered from a second hip replacement

finally getting on top of my health and feeling AWESOME

I started camp, however, the same way — apprehensive — but at least I was in a more positive frame of mind.

As camp progressed I did, however, notice a distinct difference between what I perceived the trajectory to be this year versus what it has been for the last…I don’t know so let’s say “number of years.” This could be directly related to my attitude and my approach or it could be something else or it could be a combination of many things. Regardless, something was different.

Rehearsals have been productive; only two performances in–with only one of them being the full show–and the energy is skyrocketing. Communication among the student leadership is topnotch–stronger and more proactive than previous years. In short, there just seems to be a whole lot of JOY out on the field, as well as OFF the field!

One of the reasons may be the inquisitiveness of the student leadership: they ask PROPER questions; they are engaged; they “do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done, whether they want to do it or not, and without being asked.” They are not afraid to inquire about WHY of things in order to understand more–which brings me to the reason for this post. I received an email from a student wanting to know why I felt this year was different when compared to last year. More specifically, the student still sees many, many mistakes that need to be corrected. To use the student’s own words:

“I’m curious as to what you see from your point of view that we don’t. This has just puzzeled me as there is still so much room for improvement for this band.”

The student is, of course, correct! It’s September 19th and we haven’t even scratched the surface with regard to cleaning. There is SO much to be done.

It is about perspective; it is about experience. It is not something I expect anyone IN the band to understand. When you are WITHIN the experience you cannot also stand OUTSIDE of it and “see” the “bigger picture.” If you could…the whole world would be a much different place!

If you place 100 senior band members in a room and ask them what was their favorite year, odds are in favor of over 98% of them saying “their freshman year.” Why? Simple–it was Christmas for them and nothing is better than Christmas! With that said, one of the hardest learning curves for anyone is to put Christmas away and begin the journey of moving quickly from stage 2 to stage 3. <To understand these references click here.> Stage 3 is challenging for many reasons because the personal reward is indirect. Asking college students to push through their I/ME stage of development is HUGE! Many do extremely well, others can struggle. By simply asking the question, it is clear this student is on the way to stage 3–only a little push is required!

But I haven’t answered the question…or have I?

Every band is different. The minute you change one single thing, even if it is the EXACT SAME BAND with only ONE person not returning and no new people being added, the composition of the whole has changed! My dear friend George Parks, former director of the University of Massachusetts Minuteman Marching Band, used to ask the rookie class “How many of you have seen the UMMB? How many of you want to be in THAT band?” Virtually every hand would shoot up into the air…and then he dropped the most unexpected statement ever: “Well, you can’t be in that band. That band is GONE! But YOU will be part of making THIS year’s UMMB great!” Of course, no one in the rookie classes ever understood what he was trying to convey. To use my good friend Rob Hammerton’s words:

“Odd thing to say, if you want to rev up your troops on the eve of battle … but his point was: this year’s band is not last year’s. It’s not even the same as last year’s.”

It is best not to analyze the situation, merely to accept it. The 2016 UDMB is NOT better than other years, it is merely different. It is the differences that can make something seem more magical than something else. This does NOT mean other bands were LESS–for every band I have ever had the privilege of working with has been “the best” as far as I’m concerned–it merely means that the proverbial stars have aligned ever so slightly more and there is something intangible about the composition of the various elements that make this band seem to be “more special.”

Of course, it is still early in the season and anything can happen…but I have the feeling this group won’t need to be coaxed to the edge and won’t need to be pushed–they already know how to fly!

Been a number of months since I’ve posted and, as it is with everyone else in the world life has certainly kept moving along. Today I started the last summer workshop I share with Dr. Tim Lautzenheiser. It is always a bittersweet weekend–we love hanging together, working with young adults, etc., but we both know this is the last stop before the world crashes in upon both of us and we split up for the next 10 months.

But that is for another post….

As I was teaching the first 45 minute block outside in the “land of heat and humidity” (My God it was like teaching in a steam room!!) I noticed a man standing off to the side just watching…and smiling. I knew instantly who it was and waited for the right moment to interject within my instructions “Is that Mr. Glen Rhine back there?” His smile filled his face, he nodded and bowed. At the first moment of “#3 teach clean everything I just taught you,” I went over to say hello to my old friend from my days in the Buccaneers.

Back then, in the 1980’s I watched a man spend all his time working on the small things: hand positions, guiding techniques, foot placement, horn angles, etc. The nitty gritty of the activity. Back then I thought he was missing it–I thought he had no idea what he was talking about. We needed to work on the BIG stuff, not the fact that my index finger wasn’t exactly next to my middle finger. Who cares about that? No one can tell!

Oh what I didn’t know! Oh if I knew then what I know now!!! Success is in the details–the nitty gritty details. Sure the band is loud but the trumpets don’t stand at attention the same way. They look sloppy. Fix that, add the sound and BOOM! Greatness!! …if only it were that simply, but I know you get the point.

Glen and I had lunch together for the first time in 30 years. What a great hour it was to catch up with him, to hear he’s still out there teching high school bands, to hear that he’s even more passionate about not just fixing the nitty gritty but in teaching the students WHY and HOW–not just WHAT! He sat there and he told me about how much he has learned since taking yoga and how it has helped him to break down and analyze backward marching–how each and every muscle in the foot needs to do certain things in order for the backward initiation to occur.

I sat there in amazement and joy as I listened to a 66 year old man speak with such passion about teaching high school band kids how to march. And there was the lesson: He said,

“Heidi, at our age we don’t NEED to be doing this! We do it because we WANT to.”

Do I NEED to be out there with sweat running down my entire body as if I was standing in a shower? No.

Do I NEED to be out there not only in the heat, but the rain, the cold temperatures, and even snow, jumping up and down like a crazed person trying to get a college marching band to wake up and put out some energy. No.

I do not NEED to do any of those things….I WANT to do them. Thank you Glen.

The other evening two good friends shared with me something that was at first funny but quickly began to actually frighten me. Our discussion that followed, rooted in what we had watched, has stayed with me–almost haunting me. As a teacher I have many responsibilities but perhaps the most important one of all is accountability. Accountability to myself, to my profession, but most of all, to my students. Teaching–in every conceivable sense–shapes the lives of students, of people. HOW you shape the life of another individual and WHY you shape the life of another individual is equal to (in my humble opinion) the how and why of a doctor saving an individual’s life.

Ok–you’re calling me melodramatic. Let me throw some names out there then: Charles Manson, David Koresh, Marshall Applewhite, Jim Jones, and Adolph Hitler. You’re saying, “But those are CULT leaders! They were crazy!” Yes, they were. But first and foremost, they were teachers! Maybe not in the conventional sense, but ‘teachers’ nonetheless. Through their teachings each created a following–people who looked to them for guidance, understanding, compassion, mentorship, even love. People who had a need and found their need fulfilled by the words and/or actions of teachers.

I could list so many others–religious figures, politicians, business executives–some would have positive influences on people, others would not. It doesn’t really matter and that is not the point of this post. The point is that as teachers (as ADULTS, as HUMAN BEINGS) we have a responsibility to provide a safe environment where people can grow and to never forget that our students are looking to us for guidance, understanding, compassion, mentorship, and love. Our students savor every word that comes out of our mouths. Our students notice every last detail about us (hey UMMB alums from the early 80’s: if I say “Navy Blue Suit” I have no doubt you will say “Powder Blue Stitching.” Am I right?!).

Starred Thought: The influence a teacher has upon a student is powerful–and they will remember you forever.

Let me make this very personal: People would say that I am a cult leader. Between the UDMB and DMA I have a following of thousands. This scares the living daylights out of me!!! That is NOT what I want nor desire…but when you break it down to brass tacks it sort of is the situation. And again, this scares the living daylights out of me!!!

I prefer to think, hope, whatever, that what I am creating (for lack of a better word at this moment) is a CULTURE. A culture where PEOPLE are given the tools to make decisions for themselves; a culture where PEOPLE are given the tools to grow, to learn, to lead their lives in a way that is honest; a culture where PEOPLE do not blindly follow but learn to lead themselves.

So what brought all this on????

As I said at the start of this meandering post which accomplishes what I am not sure just yet, I watched something that frightened me. It frightened me because it was narcissistic in nature and contained absolutely no substance whatsoever.

Starred Thought: All hype and no substance makes you a fluff-head.

Teachers speak – students listen; students absorb; students apply what they learned. What one says MUST have substantive value! Even the smallest of comments are taken from your mouth and put into action by students. The experiences you create for them will become part of the foundation of their lives. This is scary, scary stuff folks!!!If you spout off rhetoric with no substantive purpose you run the risk of hurting people.

There is a phenomenal quote in the first Jurassic Park movie spoken by the character Ian Malcolm:

Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.

The internet affords us the LUXURY of being able to leave a digital footprint for hundreds, if not thousands of others to experience. We can “reach” so many, many people. This is a TOOL…a tool that is taken for granted these days; a tool that is abused by many as well. Just because you have this tool available to you doesn’t mean you should use it! (And the irony is I’m doing just what I said one should not do.)

It was (and still is) never my intention to create a cult. It was (and still is) my intention to create positive learning experiences for my students that they would never have if not for the UDMB, if not for DMA. THAT is creating a culture! Yes, I have a following and yes the reality of that is frightening to me. I hope beyond hope that I always remember just how fragile that following is, just how impressionable they are, just how needy they are. I hope I always remember that:

With great power comes great responsibility.

Teaching is a form of ‘power.’ Teaching requires great responsibility. …always check your ego at the door and remember, you are shaping LIVES!

Anyone who as ever participated in marching band or drum corps or any of the pageantry arts knows the feeling. There is a “buzz” that starts a couple of weeks before the activity begins. There is anticipation, excitement, and even a sense of nervousness in the air. You simply cannot wait for it to begin!

And then, quite suddenly, you’re in it–and it’s exhilarating! With regard to marching band it starts with Band Camp. Friends you haven’t seen since the end of spring semester (or even the end of last season) are greeted with renewed joy. New members are welcomed into the “family” with open arms. You hold your breath and wait for your four favorite words: “Set up page 1.”

Very quickly the week and change of Band Camp comes to an end and the semester crashes into you like a freight train. Suddenly the excitement of the first game is careening toward you and you can’t wait to get back on the field in Delaware Stadium. The first game comes and goes in a blur–you are pretty sure you did well but you don’t remember too much about the day. You just know you missed a few dots, cracked a few notes and did your best to play “Delaware Forever” right after the 4 snare taps. You know you’ll dig in and “get better” over the next few weeks.

And then suddenly it happens…the second phase: “you can’t wait for it to be over.”

That’s correct–we love this crazy thing so much but one day the rain starts, classes get harder, papers to write begin to pile up, and exams just never seem to end. The stress of college life takes over the thought of marching band begins to irritate you. Temperatures start to drop and you’re wearing so many layers you can’t hold your instrument at the proper angle. With each passing week all you can think about is “when is this going to end?”

But end it does, bringing us to the third phase: “you can’t wait for it to begin again.”

You find yourself at the start of the last week of rehearsals. Seniors are starting to cry and talk about how they cannot bring themselves to write their “Last Will And Testament” for the band banquet book. Juniors are realizing they’re NEXT. Sophomores are wondering if they’ll be selected for Field Staff. And Freshmen can’t believe they ever doubted for a second that they would survive band.

Marching Band–oh what a crazy thing it is with which we have such an intense love-hate relationship.

This is not a religious post–but it is about the definition of the word. In fact, let us begin with that:

According to Merriam Webster, the basic definition of the word ‘faith’ is strong belief or trust in someone or something.

There are times when a series of circumstances tests our faith. Days when nothing seems to go right, when every conceivable and inconceivable obstacle appears out of nowhere and is thrown directly in front of you. It takes every ounce of energy you have to avoid running into that brick wall that you are convinced was not there one second ago. By the end of days like those you tend to get into your car, drive out of a darkened parking lot, head home to a quiet house and question why on earth you even bother trying.

Fortunately there are hints of wonder that walk side by side with the challenges—you just have to look hard enough to see them. One of the beautiful gifts I get is watching my students “figure it out.” First, yes, it is a GIFT one receives as a teacher. Second, “figure it out” is sometimes the most important lesson you can ever teach a student.

Today’s young adults want their world to be black and white. “What do I need to do to get an “A?” “What exactly is expected of me in this class?” What do you want me to do at this exact moment in time in order to not be wrong?” This is our world now…but the truth of it all is that there are no answers to the above questions. The world is NOT black and white friends. The world is 1 million shades of gray. This means that putting the gray matter located inside your skull to work is the only option you have at having a prayer at survival. Sadly many of our young adults are not ready for primetime–they have been set up to FAIL by previous teachers, and yes, their parents.

My dear friend Dr. Tim Lautzenheiser likes to preface sessions with “Truth or Sugar?” …and always the group says “TRUTH!” The reality is that the truth is a killer. So while the truth that today’s young adults have been set up to fail in many ways is brutal, it is NOT the end result. It is, however, the starting point!

So where do we go from here? UP! That’s where we go! And as we climb the ladder which seems to have no end in sight, no arrival point, no moment of “I’VE MADE IT!” we keep climbing because of this little thing called ‘faith.’

Perhaps a recap of yesterday will help with understanding where all this is coming from this evening:

The derailment began when the band buses were not only late but apparently the drivers did not know they needed to bring the band to the stadium BEFORE the game…we’ve used this company since BEFORE I was director. Then I got a text that the pit equipment truck battery was dead and they were waiting for it to be jumped. Then I called Motor Pool to find out that they were waiting for me to tell them to go to the CFA to jump start the battery even after they had been called by my GA 20 minutes earlier. Then everyone EXCEPT the trumpet section arrived at the practice fields–still short 1 bus. Then the pit truck arrived during warmups so we changed up the entire practice schedule and did Pregame first. All of this occurred in the span of ONE HOUR!.

Next we finally get the pit fired up (literally–we be electric now!! All mic-ed up and putting out decibels!!) and start to rehearse the Overture. 15 minutes later—evacuate to the Field House due to storm cell with thunder and lightening. Rehearsal over.

None of this would have been bad had it been any other time of year. However the last time we rehearsed with the pit was the last day of Band Camp 6 days ago. The rehearsal on Wednesday had us still on met and we did NOT “run-thru” any of the tunes except Overture–we were still breaking things down and running “chunks.” If you are following you have started to break out into a cold sweat because you know what all this means: the first real run of Overture, Masquerade and the encore Malaguena would be under the proverbial gun DURING halftime! No chunks; no met; 1 -2, GO!!!!!

And they did….and I finally calmed down. Those of you who know me are aware that I get wired with nervous energy at the first game. I don’t want them to fail at anything. I don’t want them to go home thinking “we’re no good.” I don’t want them ever to feel embarrassed. Usually I am excited to see/hear what they do because I KNOW they are going to be incredible right out of the gate. Last night was not one of those times. Last night I was a nervous wreck. They weren’t ready; they didn’t have a single full rehearsal in 6 days; they had no idea what to do when the team scored; they had no idea how to get on and off the field. …and the list went on and on. I was a virtual train wreck heading for the end of the line that was hovering over the edge of an abyss.

(ok…perhaps a tad melodramatic….or not. I was a mess!)

And then they played the first note of the Overture after the auctioneer narration and the music box…and I giggled.

And then they played the final crescendo…and I chuckled.

And then they played Letter O of Masquerade…and I outright laughed.

And then they unloaded Malaguena…and I wished I had a horn so I could join the soloists on the sideline.

And then….postgame was even better.

Have a little faith. I didn’t yesterday. I had lost most of it. I was caught up in the insanity and lost sight of faith: faith in the one thing that has always been a constant for me—this band pulling up their boots by the bootstraps and ‘figuring it out.’

It was always there…I just couldn’t see it at first because I wasn’t looking hard enough….

I wrote to some very dear friends this past weekend the following words:

During the course of any given year I approach my role with the UDMB, Symphonic Band, student teachers and any other encounter with my students as a chance to “provide a life changing experience they would not have if not for band.” This upcoming week will be one of those that exceeds such definition.

I can tell everyone the week exceeded such definition in ways I did not anticipate. The proverbial envelope was pushed, the emotional rollercoaster was a wild ride (and we are just getting to the final section of high speed twists and exhilarating turns). The discussions and conversations about the past, about philosophy, about life and all that comes with it reached depths that I’m not sure any of us involved could have planned nor expected.

The week has been a treat unlike any other. And perhaps one has to truly know the “players” in order to understand how such experiences could happen in such a short period of time with such profound and visceral outcomes. Those of you, however, that do know Bill Rowell, Jim Ancona and myself are most likely not remotely surprised by any of these words.

It began a little over a year ago–it was conceived in selfishness. How do we extend our 20th year celebration into the spring semester? The fall was easy–it’s called Alumni Band @ Homecoming. That day was spectacular–over 200 UDMB alumni returned. We all ate, drank, told stories and of course, ripped apart “La Suerte de Los Tontos” at halftime…because we could! Again, that was easy. The spring was another matter.

“Hey Jim, what do you think about asking Bill Rowell to spend a week with us and guest conduct on the last concert?”

That was it–that was the selfish germ that began it all. The journey that followed included a visit to Amherst, MA, coffee, and a discussion regarding the program. (I hear laughter right now coming from cyberspace…”a discussion?” “You had a discussion with Rowell about programing.” “BWAHAHAHAH!”) Those that are chucking are indeed, correct. I sat down with Mr. Rowell (I still struggle calling him “Bill”–it’s how I was raised I suppose) and he said something to the effect of “Heidi, I certainly do not want to tell you what to do. This is your concert.” He then took out a piece of paper with a complete program already in place! Again–if you know the “players” you’re not surprised!

We narrowed a few things down and came up with what will be the second half of tonight’s culminating event. A little Grainger (of course!), some Ticheli (“Heidi, what if you played the offstage trumpet solo?”) and a march that is PURE Rowell–one that took me a week to listen to and finally begin to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. I characterize it as a the love child of Ives’ “Country Band March” and Mackey’s “Xerxes.”

The discussions in the music education and conducting classes were thoughtful and insightful. The open Q & A yesterday turned to a discussion about the rehearsal. (Mr. Rowell took the entire two hour rehearsal on Tuesday…and if we didn’t stop him he could have continued for another two hours. Within 2 minutes of beginning it was as if I had been transported to room 36 in FAC–nothing had changed! When I told him this later that evening he said, “I don’t know any other way.” My students do not know what hit them but they are “hungrier” than they ever were and for that alone I am grateful that time has not mellowed the man.”) We even Skyped in Sanford Jones, another UMASS alum, from Germany.

Dinners were wonderful trips down memory lane of course, as were the car rides back and forth to the hotel. But everything I’ve written thus far is nothing one wouldn’t expect when a former teacher is invited back to be a guest. There was one difference:

The emotional journey this has been for all of us (Bill, Jim and I) was transporting and suspended time. I’ve been in a bubble the last few days–one that has brought me closer to understanding how utterly important it is to stop brooding over the past, stop worrying about the future, and LIVE in the present. (I have another friend who does this and I have been envious of it for a couple of years. I now have a bit of a better understanding due to the personal immersion of this week.)

We fed our souls this week. It was a by-product of a standard event conceived in selfishness that I did not anticipate. It was a win-win-win situation. The students were exposed to the teachings of a man who taught all of his students to look inward and find resilience and strength. Jim and I were able to share our podium with a mentor and in turn learn a bit more about ourselves. But the biggest winner was Mr. Rowell. Jim and I knew this would be a special week but it turned into a gift unlike any we could have planned.

To borrow Mr. Rowell’s words for a moment, “Art is not a thing. Art is a way.” And this week was, indeed, art.

We all see the slogans about overcoming adversity. We all see the inspirational quotes on Pinterest and Facebook and every other social media interface about perseverance, commitment, pushing the envelope, achieving your goals, etc. And for the most part every person subscribes to the 144 character life changing moment for, well just a moment. Unfortunately those moments are short lived because “it becomes too hard.”

No kidding it’s hard. It’s easy in the beginning but after a fairly short period of time it becomes too hard to continue. We make excuses left and right–some are valid but most are just that, excuses. We say time and time again “Tomorrow. I will start tomorrow.” And some times we do and some times we don’t.

It is all easier said than done. Whether it is making a commitment to weight loss, better diet, consistent exercise, practicing your musical instrument, learning a new skill…the list goes on. It is easier said than done. The majority will start and then fail. A small minority will stick with it for a longer period of time. They will achieve a moderate amount of success but will then stop pushing to newer heights because it started to get too hard. Then there are those few–the ones who say / think: “I can and will do this.” And ultimately they are successful.

I am confident that I am a member of each category. It all depends upon the topic. Most recently however I find I am somewhere between the group of folks who achieve moderate success and then cease growth and those who keep pushing to new limits when it comes to my physical, let’s call them ‘challenges.’

It’s not a secret to anyone what life has been like for me since the fall of 2009. That was when I acknowledged to myself that the knee pain I was experiencing was not going to go away on its own. Six years ago I faced up to it…but let’s face facts, the pain had begun a number of years prior to this moment of acknowledgement. Without beating a dead horse, it is safe to say that the amount of arthritis in both knees, both hips, shoulders and yes, elbows, has reached a certain level of critical mass. (And while I have addressed my knees and hips you can forget about my shoulders for a while…sucking up that pain for as long as possible or I’ll be out of a job!)

But this post is not about all of that, it is about what happens AFTER you finish the prescribed amount of PT. It is about what happens AFTER you wake up on a rainy morning and struggle to get through the day. It is about what happens AFTER you drive from NY to DE and have to extract yourself from your car.

There is every reason in the world to take things slow, not to over do things, keep it all to a bare minimum…there is every reason to do those things because you hurt. But I can’t do that. I can’t sit back and watch the rest of my life drain away. I can’t mark time through the next 20, 30 or possibly 40 years. …and perhaps it is better for me to say “I won’t.”

I suppose there are those folks out there who see a woman, who is on the other side of the half century mark, logging miles on a road cycle and think “Mid-life crisis.” And perhaps they are right except for one part–this is NOT mid-life for me. What are they saying now–60’s are the new 40’s? Well then that puts me back in my 30’s! But all humor aside, for me, it is about a conscious choice.

Sure I hurt. If the sun comes up in the morning you can guarantee that one to four different joints in my body hurts. Am I being rebuilt? Yes. I joke about it of course–I call them “The Boys,” the team of men who I see for whatever ailment is the most current. I joke about them “patching me up” all the time. The truth is, they do…and only occasionally do I get Lecture 101: “back off at the gym” or “stay off the hills for a few weeks” or “cut back on the coffee and NSAIDS” or the best of the best: “You need to find a way to decompress.” I am quite sure I exasperate them all but, heck, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t make them earn every last penny insurance reluctantly coughs up to them.

But this is also not the point of this post.

I, like everyone else with OA, struggle with pain. But it is the choice one makes each and every day that defines me, NOT the pain. So I get up and I go to work. Either before or after work I put on bike clothes, strap that bike to the back of the car, drive out to the flats along the canal and LET HER RIP! …and then I come home, strap the bag of ice on my knee, lie on the floor and prop the leg up on the side of the couch (while a basset hound licks the salt off my face). And the next day or two days later I go out and do it all over again–each time pushing the sprint times a bit more and feeling the burn in every square inch of my body. Sometimes I beat a personal record on one of the courses, sometimes I don’t. But each and every time I feel ALIVE.

No, it is not a mid-life crisis. No, it is not insane either. It is about choosing to push the envelope a bit more every day and not giving into the things that could hold you back. It is about getting out there and living–pushing beyond your limits. Some will understand. Some will scoff. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks…except me.